Dharia's hospital door closed with a hushed thud. It was cold in the hallway. I found myself rubbing my exposed arms, as if it was the middle of winter and snow started to fall.
"That may not have been the best thing to say," I said.
"Can it, Court," Cindi said. "It isn't the time for jokes."
"Didn't mean it as a joke." I went to stand beside her. "Something must have happened."
Cindi stepped over to the side, away from me. "She's torn up. Ugh, I should have said something else. I wish I could take it back."
"Hey," I said, concerned. "It's not your fault."
"I--I know. Just, I don't …" she faltered. "Oh, nevermind. What do we do now?"
"I was gonna ask you the same."
Why did she shut us out like that? Our visit overwhelmed her. I looked over at Cindi and knew she was wrong: It was my fault. I shouldn't have introduced her so suddenly, without warning. I should have seen that coming.
I couldn't go beating myself up about it, no matter how much I wanted to. I needed to make things right.
"Cindi," I said. "There's gotta be something we can do."
"Like what?"
"Maybe we can start looking for our mysterious black box?"
"With what leads?"
"You make it sound like neither of us have a clue," I said.
Cindi raised an eyebrow. "You do?"
I nodded.
The Museum of Acadia in Easttown, or just the Easttown Museum for normal people, is one other Inner Easttown bastion, besides the hospital of course. A great big concrete and stone building with steps leading up to it like a palace. Columns stood marshaled across the entrance. Banners hung down their lengths. They displayed various exhibitions on view; One on Acadia City cultural history, another one about some impressionist painter who died long before phones were a thing, and one on local myths and folklore that honestly looked pretty interesting. Cindi didn't care to stop and peruse.
In the lobby, I approached the check-in desk.
"You kids enjoying your fall break?" asked the lady behind the front desk. "We're doing discounts to celebrate the new painter's exhibit."
"Uh, no," I said. "I'm actually related to someone who works here. He's a researcher and archivist. Do you know David Webster?"
She frowned. "Can't say I do." Cindi side-eyed me.
"Did you check the … uh … database?"
She glared at me. "I'm going to have to see some ID, kid."
I blushed and began to rifle through my pockets. "It's in here somewhere." I smirked apologetically at Cindi.
A friendly voice piqued behind me. "It's okay Gertrude, I'll help them out." She stood a good foot-and-a-half over me. Big brown-bronze eyes and pursed lips. She smelled a little like old books and coffee. I took a second to stop.
Gertrude mumbled and scrounged around behind the desk for two visitors' passes. Each illuminated and hanging from a lanyard. "Keep these on you. If you don't, security will escort you out."
"Thank you," I said.
The woman smiled down at me. "Don't mention it. Gertrude can be a little … strict."
"More like a little testy," Cindi whispered under her breath.
"Shhh," I whispered back.
The woman laughed. "No, it's alright. She's normally like that. We all have to put up with difficult people, don't we? Just a natural part of life."
"Uh, yea," I said.
"Anyway," Cindi interjected. "Thanks for the help."
"After overhearing the two of you, I had to do something."
"Why did you stand up for us?" I asked.
"I'm a good friend of David's. I've heard a lot about you Monty."
"Y-you have?" Wow, she really was pretty. She wore some gold jewelry: earrings, rings, and a hidden necklace.
"If you'll excuse us," Cindi said, grabbing my arm. "We're in a bit of a hurry."
"C-Cindi! Hold on."
"Yea, kid. Wait a minute." She crossed her arms. "What are the two of you doing here?"
Cindi stopped tugging at me. I said, "we're here to use your archive."
"Use our archive? You know, we can't just have anyone using the museum's repository. You've got to make an appointment. Monty, do you have an appointment?"
"Ha, ha. Well no."
She sighed. "So what was your plan? Just to wander around until you find it?"
"I was hoping someone at the front desk would let me in. Or to at least call David to bring me down." It wasn't really thought out, but it was the best I could think of given the circumstances.
"You two really are related," she said. "He didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"David didn't come into work today."
"What?" Now that was a shocker. I tried texting him earlier. He didn't answer but I thought it was because he was too busy. Now, I'm being told he didn't even come into work. "Wait, then where is he?"
"Honestly, when I ran into the two of you, I was hoping you knew," she said. "That's why I was surprised to hear you didn't know either."
"He wasn't home."
She poured over a thought for a moment, then said, "He could be doing a pickup. He's been running around like crazy to finish a project before the winter. It wouldn't shock me to hear that he had forgotten to tell any of us where he went."
"Yea," I said, "that sounds like him."
She snorted. "You know, I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Aabria. Aabria Cabrera. I'm also an archivist here at the museum. Come on, I'll show you around."
"And this is The Surf Swindler," Arabia said gesturing to an oil painting of a ship at sea. Wind and storm-dark clouds ripped at its sails amidst the thralls of unending rain. On the deck, a sea captain held onto dear life to a loose bit of rope. He looked as if he peed himself.
Cindi sighed. "Do you guys have anything … less old?" I elbowed her lightly in the rib. She elbowed me back.
Arabia remitted a wordy explanation and instead offered her a sheepish smile. "Uh--yea. Do you two like Impressionism?" She idly picked at her gold necklace beneath the sweater.
"I don't like puppets," Cindi said.
"That's ventriloquism."
"Maybe sculptures are more your guys' thing?"
"Uh, actually. We were hoping to check out the archive--"
Aabria fluttered to the other side of the exhibit. "Oh, now this is cool. Come check this one out!" She stood in front of an abstract sculpture of a woman in robes holding a sword. Her eyes are blindfolded. "Lady Arete. It was popular for a lot of older artists to depict the city as a mythical warrior-woman. I've always loved these kinds of statues of her." She gushed at the exhibit.
Cindi walked up beside her, arms crossed. Under that thin air of disinterest, she seemed genuinely pulled in. "Cool sword," she said with a hidden note of veneration.
"Very cool," Aabria agreed.
"Archive," I reiterated. "We should go check out the archive."
"Oh! Right. Archive. Right this way." Aabria led us down the local myths and folklore exhibitions toward the back offices, where we descended a flight of stairs and entered an underground basement floor.
"Why is it so cold down here?" Cindi asked while rubbing her exposed arms.
"Sorry. The cold helps to kill bugs. And it helps with preventing adhesives from ."
"The big thing about archives work is temperature regulation. That's one of the more important things to worry about."
"But do you have to keep it so cold?"
"We keep it cool to kill the bugs," Aabria said. "I, for one, welcome the frozen bug apocalypse." She swiped a key card and a door opened up into a communal office space with short walled cubicles and a jumble of filing cabinets. Files stuck haphazardly through the slots. Paper stacks sat atop their tops, waiting for a light brush to send them collapsing onto the eighties technicolor rug floor.
"This is where the magic happens!" She gestured with arms outstretched. She was the living embodiment of a showman putting on a show. All she needed was a top hat and cane.
"And over here," she directed with a light step, "is David's desk."
It reminded me a lot of the apartment. Files and records stacked in esoteric, but internally consistent, categorical units with demarcated considerations only David himself likely knew. bunch of books stacked high like skyscrapers, or columns. A coffee stain made a perfect ring in the center. Yup, it was definitely his desk.
"And this is mine." Aabria's desk was no less messy. Just, maybe a bit more navigateable. She, too, enjoyed a habit of leaving coffee stains everywhere. She sat down and began typing away, fingers flying key to key. A database and search function appeared onscreen.
"So, what're you looking for?"
"Anything about a black box. Maybe ye big?" I estimated the size of it with my hands. No larger than a baseball.
"Hmmm. Hold on, I'll try something." She began searching the index for anything meeting the physical descriptions of the box. The click-clacketing of her keyboard filled the room. "Since we're publicly funded, we share a lot of our database with the other city museums. Like the Museum of Arete in Downtown. I think we're the cooler of the two, personally. But, if anyone in the city who uses our database had something like what you're describing, we'd probably find it here. What do you think it is?"
"Personally?" I said. "I think it's … uh, got something to do with …" There was no other choice, I had to tell her. Cindi looked at me questioningly. Her eyebrow raised. "I think it has something to do with those mysterious lights in the sky, from last week."
"What? Really?"
I nodded. "I found the black box when it washed ashore."
Aabria crossed her arms. "What does that have to do with the lights?"
"I found it shortly after they appeared over the bay. It was sealed tightly, with some kind of odd light spilling out. If it was weird tech or something, it should have been incapable of working."
"It sure sounds weird all right. But, I don't know." She reached down and fiddled with her necklace again. This time, I could make out a cute little ram, or goat, at the end of it. She seemed to touch it when she got nervous.
"We think it has something to do with the AADs too," Cindi said.
Arabia watched her with some intensity. Her eyes flickered. "That's an interesting theory," she said, "however, I don't quite see the connection."
The beep of an ID card scanner alerted us to the far side of the room where a tall and lanky archivist sauntered in, paperwork under his arm and a cup of tea wafting towards the three of us. His brow furrowed with annoyance.
"Visitors?" he asked.
Aabria said, "Yes! Um, Callum, this is Monty and his friend Cindi. They're here on account of David."
"As long as the three of you aren't throwing our very carefully arranged documents into chaos, I'm happy to accommodate for anything." He hummed as he sat down his still steaming tea. After removing the documents from under his shoulder and dropping them on the desk, he slipped in his cubicle and started to sip from his mug. "Speaking of David. Have you seen him?"
"Not today. I think he's out on a pickup."
"Didn't know we had one today."
"Neither did I," she said, concerned.
"Hmm?" He leaned back in his chair, scarily close to falling. "Not like him."
"Didn't you speak with him yesterday before we left? Did he say anything then?"
"No, nothing in particular. Just talked a little about our shared interest in strange antiquities."
Aabria snorted. "That dusty book? Looked like you pried it from the founders' cold fingers."
"And here I thought gravedigging was a euphemism," he joked, smiling.
Cindi noticed the books on his desk. Some historical accounts and old records. She said, "Do you guys only archive old stuff?" It sounded a little blunt, but I could hardly think of a better question to ask. Callum humored the question and laughed lightly.
"The old and the new. They go so well together."
"Can you help us?" I asked. "We're looking for something in the museum's database. Something I found but lost. I think it may have been important. Maybe there's a way you can help us out?"
He raised an eyebrow to Aabria and she returned the gesture with a sigh. "Do you know anything about little black boxes washing ashore Arete Bay?"
"With strange lights coming from inside," Cindi added.
"That's been sealed tightly. Like a nun's jewelry box," I added.
He hummed to himself, thinking about it. Or, at least pretending to think about it.
"No. But maybe," he said, "yea maybe you could find something in the AXON security camera database."
"The one that ATLAS uses?" Aabria asked.
"The very same."
"What for?" Cindi asked.
"Put in a request to see if it's been found. I guess."
"I thought AXON was a private company database," Aabria said. "They're not gonna just let anyone use it."
"Well, you let us use the museum's," Cindi said. Aabria smirked at her and Cindi smirked back.
"There's no way," I said, shaking my head.
"We've got a lot of leverage as public institutions," Callum said. "And last time I checked, the owners of AXON, ATLAS, are now a public institution."
"Ugh," Aabria said. Callum made a puking gesture with his finger and tongue.
"I'm just saying, maybe I can try and get Miriam to pull some strings as head curator. Swing it as a little treasure hunting with the help of AXON's high tech security systems. Maybe we'll throw an exhibition for the founders of ATLAS together."
"I would rather jump off a building," Aabria said. Then, immediately after saying it, she awkwardly apologized for the comment. Cindi laughed back into her chair.
"Took the words right out of my mouth," Callum said. "Or, if the two of you want more info on where you left it, why don't you ask for the security footage yourselves."
Puzzled, I asked, "What, just walk into a nearby store and just ask?"
"Yea," he said, "where did you last leave it anyway?"
"On the wharf in Octoberfaire."
Callum whistled. "I used to love going through the mirror house as a kid. I wonder if it's still up." He sipped his tea. "Yea, okay. Why don't you kids try asking the local business, or the wharf folks for that matter, to look at their security cam footage. What's the harm anyway?"
Aabria added, "And we will help by sending a request to ATLAS. Maybe we can find something here." She nodded at Cindi, who hesitantly nodded back, won over.
"It's settled," Callum said. "Now, let us get to work."
After Aabria led us back towards the lobby, Cindi and I regrouped. I wanted to get her opinion on the whole situation, because she was a little quiet during the whole spiel. Something felt off about the idea. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something about that Callum guy set off red flags. When I told Cindi about it, she said she didn't really get it. I understood why she felt that way, but I couldn't settle the idea.
"Do you really think it's a good idea to follow along?" Cindi asked.
"I don't see the harm in it. And, honestly, I'm surprised I didn't even think of the idea."
"What about Dharia?"
"I doubt she wants to see me."
Cindi scoffed. "You didn't even explain shit to her."
"I know. I know." What was up with Cindi today? Why was she being so combative? "I probably should have said some--"
"Probably?"
"What's your deal?"
"My deal is you didn't back me up with Dharia."
"She was scared and tired."
"So? Tough shit. It's not like we meant to find that black box and start the AADs."
"I still doubt that it was us who started it."
"Did you pay attention to anything we've been doing? It was your idea to come here to the museum to see if there were some leads to find it. Why else would we be here other than to pick up our mess?"
"I don't know, maybe because it's the right thing to do?"
"Yea, like you really believe that."
"Look, let's just go. Maybe they're right and the local shops still have footage from yesterday." My lips pursed. I could not find the courage to look her in the eyes. "But, for what it's worth … I'm sorry. For not having your back."
"Better not happen again," she said, sticking out her closed fist from her side. We fist-bumped and a wave of purpose washed over me. And another feeling. Clarity. Like the storm was starting to break.